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Hello again.
This is Show 2, right? Is this our second show or our third show? Technically, it’s the third show, because this is our third time doing this.
But what do we call it? Show 2? When it’s actually show 3? Or Show Three?, like Show Three? Meaning it’s the title. Every show from now on, we’ll simply never know what show it is. Because it’s unknowable. Let me tell ya, unknowable s**t does not sit well with me. I like knowing stuff. Because the more you know, the more you see how things connect and make sense. And the more you see how things make sense, the better life gets.
Life. With a capital L.
I wanna hear Samuel L. Jackson say that: Capital L! He’s already saying “Capital One. What’s in your wallet?”
My favorite thing about Sam Jackson, and yes I’m truncating his name immediately because I have always sort of felt like I know him. I relate to him. I understand him. Watching him act over the years and listening to him speak many times, he seems like he’s got a solid worldview. And when he’s doing those Capital 1 commercials, the whole time I’m thinking he knows we know this is ridiculous. But he knows it, too, so it’s fine; we’re all in on it. So it’s hilarious.
So anyway, getting back to the topic Life with Sam’s Capital L.
And knowing stuff. Versus that stuff which is unknowable.
Which we established a moment ago I don’t like.
But that’s what’s going to happen. Wheels are in motion, Jerry. You know what it is? It’s the big bang. So to speak.
The fact that we don’t, and can’t, we physically cannot, know which show this is is like those giant wheels that are in motion, they can’t be stopped. It’s like…they can’t be stopped. Ever. By anyone. No matter who it is or how much money they have, the wheels are in motion. And it likens to a bang, a big bang, in the matter of explosions and fire.
And rockets.
What is a rocket? It is a vehicle directing a barely-controlled explosion out behind it in order to make itself fly. That is kick-ass.
It’s also unstoppable.
Wait.
F**k.
Is it? It used to not be. But today maybe it is possible. Where’s Elon? I love listening to you speak, on all manner of things. When you discuss rocket engines themselves, I love that s**t. It’s so far over my f**kin head, for the most part, because I didn’t study physics or engineering. But between you and Tim, and that’s Tim Dodd The Everyday Astronaut, motherf**kers. Motherf**kers is merely my emphasis. Okay? Take a moment to make sure you understand that: that Tim’s name is Tim Dodd, The Everyday Astronaut.
Period.
His name is not Tim Dodd, Everyday Astronaut Motherf**kers.
That makes him sound like he likes to f**k mothers. Which is…weird when you hear it like that? I think. But if you think about it, all of those of us who, pardon my language, f**k women — which is to say have really amazing and intense sex with women, which is also to say make sweet love to women — and women to men, of course; of course; and other myriad combinations; we are equal opportunity sex enthusiasts here — — …
We are…and I’m uncomfortable saying this, not sure why, which is actually the scary part if you really think about it, we are all f**king mothers. If you remove the element of time. And consider the mothers, who are great and we all love you and appreciate you and we are aware that no one says it often enough. I imagine being a mother is the absolute pinnacle peak of human experience. The whole process. Pregnancy. And, hopefully, the really, really, REALLY good, amazing, powerful sex before hand which led to the pregnancy.
You know?
The kind of sex where you’re maybe a tiny bit unsure of what the f**k is even happening. Not because you’re f**kin wasted, either, though you might be, for sure. For sure. Wink, wink, motherf**kers, or should I say fatherhumpers. Wink, fatherhumpin wink.
And for those of you who have no f**king idea what I’m talking about right now, hang in there. I promise, we’ll get to that. But it defies a five-second explanation.
Where were we?
Mothers. Awesome.
Tim Dodd, Elon, rocket engines: can you turn them off?
I don’t know why this never clicked in my mind before now and I do indeed feel like an idiot because I suddenly realize that I should’ve realized this a long-ass time ago.
That’s Space-X’s whole…jam. Right?
Start that f**ker up, and then later, when you’re ready, turn it off. You’re not simply going to wait for all the fuel and oxidizer to burn up, right?
That’s the old way. Right?
The new way, the better way, and I’m kind of surprised and angry that this is happening in my lifetime, meaning that it should’ve happened a long time ago. And that we should be way, no, far, no I like way here: we should be WAY beyond this technologically as a species. Countries versus species. Who you got?
That is going on a tee shirt. That one is f**king mine. I like that one and I'm keeping it.
Countries Versus Species.
Or, better yet:
Lower case c: countryVspecies
And have it all be lower case except for the V. And it can be in some crazy gaming font, like something from Mortal Kombat. Or Striking Vipers. Jesus what was that? Charlie! Bravo, man! That show is f**king awesome. Please make more. During the stupid-f**king-pandemic, and that’s what I call it, the stupid-f**king-pandemic, and yes it’s just an excuse to say it again, I heard, Charlie, that you decided not to make new shows because the world was already dark enough. I felt the opposite. I thought we needed you and your work even more. But, that’s cool. I totally understand. So I, and I think probably a f**kin lot of other people, have just been waiting. We’ll wait. Of course. This is art we’re talking about.
For anyone who doesn’t know, you can’t really rush art. Sometimes, you simply must wait.
Now, don’t get me wrong, you still have to show up and do the work. I’m not saying you can sit around doing nothing, being a lazy f**k, having all kinds of ideas for stories and stuff, but you’re not f**king doing anything about it. You’re not recording them. In some way. Using some piece or pieces of technology. Like a laptop. Just keep your laptop handy pretty much at all times. Because inspiration is a motherf**king lightning bolt.
And on the subject of the f**king of our beloved mothers, if you stop to think about it, somebody has to. Somebody is 99.99% going to. There aren’t that many middle-aged virgins out there. Right? So somebody is going to have sex with the little girl you have who you get to watch grow up and become an adult and a woman. A woman who is going to have sex. At some point. She is going to do it.
And here’s the thing, ladies:
Wait.
Am I mansplaining?
What the f**k is the difference between trying to educate someone and mansplaining?
I see people struggling. I see people struggling through life. Every single person I know has struggles. And when they tell me about their struggles, I want to help. I want to help them. I want to give them the solution to their struggles so they can stop struggling with that dumb thing, and it’s always dumb because it’s just a f**king distraction that’s keeping us from spending more time working on our own personal passion projects which are the things that actually make us happy in life.
And folks, if you have a person in your life and they have shared their passion with you, the thing they suffer for, take that seriously. That is them sharing themselves with you. With YOU. They chose YOU. Of all the f**kin people they know, they got to know you and at some point they realized they can trust you. They can let their guard down a little and be more themselves, rather than always reserved and hiding their true selves from those around them.
Because that’s what we do. We hide our true wants.
Why do we do that?
It’s a really bad thing.
Unless it’s like f**kin pedophilia or some s**t. Then, f**king temper yourself, motherf**ker. For real. That s**t is f**kin wrong and you know it.
At this point, I don’t think motherf**ker really means anything other than this: emphasis.
It’s so common and has been around for so long, decades and decades, probably the late ‘50s? When movies really got going and a lot of people were making them and you had cause for a person in the movie to at some point shout out “Motherf**ker!”
And the first time, I bet it was a scandal.
Does anyone here know the name of the movie that blurted out “Motherf**ker!” for the first time? Like the very first time in the entire history of Hollywood and movies and filmed entertainment. The technology was only invented in the 50’s really, right? I realize Edison’s camera was, what? 1905? Ish? And the Lumière brothers were the first, as far as I am aware, to go out and film stuff and then show that film footage in a movie theater filled with people who paid to walk into that theater and watch that movie. Exactly, exactly the way we do it today. Granted, the whole notion of going to the movies took a massive f**king hit during the, say it with me now please if you would be so kind, stupid-f**king-pandemic.
But it’s coming back. It will come back. Or it will at least never go away. It’s too powerful of an experience to go see a movie on a screen THAT large. It envelopes you in a way the TV on your wall cannot and therefore will never do.
Anyway, over time more and more movies used the word “Motherf**ker!” And yes, it has an exclamation mark after it because it is definitely one-hundred-and-fifty-f**king-percent an exclamation.
We should have a global contest in which people make a 5-second video of themselves saying the “Motherf**ker” in the best way…that is NOT an angry exclamation most likely connected to violence and fighting and stuff that is crazy to watch in a movie but should never, ever happen irl.
irl equals In Real Life.
Acronym.
Like SCUBA.
Only lower case. Because when you’re typing stroke chatting in a chatroom dedicated to the video game you’re currently playing, your attention is on the game so you don’t really have time to type long messages or replies to other people in the chat or in the game or whatever. So a shorthand developed.
And think about how crazy this is: a new language developed.
Anthropologists, sociologists, linguists, linguists from the linguistics department – they’re wild!
Have you guys realized that a new language has come into being? It began, I would say, really in the ‘90s. When internet gaming and LAN parties started. That was where a group of guys who all play the same game together will get together in someone’s house. And they all connect their computers to the same central Internet Wi-Fi service, and they play the game together. And because they’re all together, rather than spread out over a city or a state or, yes, even a continent, it’s faster.
The game physically functions faster. Faster, smoother, better. It is fundamentally more playable. With less lag. Lag is when there is a delay between when you do something, such as press a certain combination of keys on your keyboard while also using the mouse with the other hand. It’s a very complex, complicated, quite amazing physical process that goes on during the playing of a video game. You are conducting an electronic, digital orchestra. You are making all of your pixels go to certain places. And everyone else is simultaneously doing the same thing. And it’s a race to make those pixels react. So whomever has the fastest computer or the best internet connection…wins.
Think about that for a second. Does that seem fair?
You ALWAYS f**king lose because your internet sucks?
Think about how f**king frustrating that would be.
You know you’re good, everyone knows you’re good, but they also know that your computer sucks dick. So you start piling money into building a better computer that is faster and is built specifically for gaming. And you upgrade or switch to the very best fastest internet service you can find.
But the inequities between the classes become clear right away. Broke-ass motherf**kers with s**tty computers and crap internet always lose.
So this endless quest for faster gaming goes on and on and on and gets bigger and bigger and bigger. And so now you have the rise of e-sports. Electronic sports.
And it is ALREADY a multi-billion-dollar industry. And it is only getting started.
Point being that inside the new language. Gamer’s language. Special shorthand only gamers know. But gamers around the world know it. So it’s a global language.
Do you guys know the origin of Frankenstein?
Why do standups tell the audience that they are great? Because they are stroke were. Meaning that during the comic’s set, the audience was polite. They didn't heckle or yell or do any of the annoying s**t that people in the audience do in small clubs where somehow the audience is allowed to be a collective asshole whose job it is do s**t on the comic. To heckle. To haze. To rile. To destroy if possible. And if the comic can't survive that, then they don't make it.
It's kind of like martial arts. You practice every day to learn and grow and get better. And when you're ready, you test. You test for your new belt, your new rank. And the sensei and your fellow practitioners evaluate you and say whether or not you are ready. And the audience does the same thing. They heckle and disrupt and act like jerks and try to rattle you. And if you get rattled, you fail. Your job is to stay calm, or at least as calm as possible so that you are able to think quickly on your feet so you can handle the heckler. So you can turn it back around on them somehow in a funny way that's not nasty or personal. That's what everyone wants to see. We want to see you beat that motherf**ker in this contest of verbal sparring, of verbal jousting. Each of you is on a horse and you're in your armor and you're holding your shield and your lance and you ride toward one another and your job is to knock the other person off of their horse. If you win, the heckler is made to look like an idiot and you're the hero and the audience is on your side. But if you lose, the heckler knocks you off of your horse. They knock you off your game. They knock you off the freakin stage. And that will eat at you and eat at you and eat at you for as long as you let it. And the way to not let it is to get back up on stage again and do another set and work your way through it. Put your armor back on, climb back up on your horse, your trusty steed, have your squire hand you your shield and lance and ride out into the arena or the fighting pit or the jousting whatever the f**k they called it back then, and face whoever comes at you. And do your best not to get knocked off of your horse.
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